Kiara kept her face neutral, though the number stung. *6 gold?* That was far more expensive than she'd expected.
"That's a little beyond my expectations," she said calmly.
"Quality has its price," he replied with a small shrug.
"My budget is only 4 gold coins."
"I'm afraid we can't go that low for premium linen. How about we change the material? Helen, bring that..."
Kiara then stepped closer to him by a half step. The copper ring on her finger grew warm.
[Target locked.]
[Target possesses 5 Luck points.]
[Proceed with absorption?]
*Yes.*
[Verbal confirmation required.]
"Yes."
[Maximum absorbable amount: 2 Luck points.]
[Beginning transfer.]
[30 seconds remaining.]
[Transfer complete.]
[Successfully absorbed 2 Luck Points.]
Kiara nodded, "Okay, show me the medium quality fabric then..."
Just then, the front door burst open with a loud bang.
A richly dressed noblewoman stormed in and slapped an elegant blue dress onto the counter. "I want my money back."
The entire shop fell silent. Even the apprentices stopped sewing.
Helen looked up. "Lady Marissa…"
The woman jabbed a finger at the dress. "My husband paid thirty gold coins for this. I could barely breathe in it. I missed an entire banquet because of your mistake!"
While everyone's attention locked onto the furious noblewoman, Kiara quietly picked up the abandoned dress. It was stunning—deep sapphire blue with delicate silver embroidery.
Zion's eyes shimmered faintly. Information flowed into her mind:
[Material: Premium Imperial Linen]
Estimated Value: Ten gold coins
Condition: Perfect
Fit Compatibility: 98.7%
*It fits me?*
She ran her fingers over the flawless stitching. Lady Marissa suddenly noticed her.
"You know, that dress might actually suit your build better than mine."
Helen quickly checked her notebook. A moment later, both she and the tailor stiffened.
"The order tags… were they switched?" Lady Marissa crossed her arms. "So was I wearing someone else's dress?"
The tailor bowed deeply. "We'll remake yours at once and refund you in full."
Satisfied, Lady Marissa stepped aside.
Kiara placed the dress gently on the counter. "I'll buy it."
The tailor's professional smile returned. "Wonderful. It's twenty—"
"Three."
His smile froze. "Pardon? 3? You mean… you mean… Three? 1. 2. 3?"
The tailor stared at Kiara in disbelief.
How could someone sell a 20 gold coins worth outfit for 3 gold coins?
"Yes, three gold," Kiara repeated. "Look, this returned dress is worthless now. Even if you pull it apart, how much is the fabric going to be worth? You can recover something from the loss..."
He hesitated, clearly pained. A full refund had already been promised. Remaking the noblewoman's dress would cost time and material. Selling this one at full price now would be difficult.
Lady Marissa glanced at Kiara again. "This woman… she is really opportunistic."
Kiara, seeing the hesitancy on the tailor, then said, "How about this. I will take that earlier one as well. Take 6 gold coins for that, and I will add another gold coin for this, make it 4. Make a deal for 10 gold coins."
The tailor rubbed his forehead and let out a long sigh. If it was about just selling that returned dress, even at 4 gold coins, he still had reservations about it. But if this new customer intended to tailor another one and bring overall revenue to 10 gold coins…
Maybe… just maybe...
"It's yours."
As Zion accepted the wrapped dress, Kiara lightly brushed the copper band on her finger.
Three purchases. Three fortunate outcomes.
Yet none had simply fallen into her lap. She had bargained for the vegetables. She had chosen the right butcher's stall. And here, she had recognized an opportunity when it appeared.
A faint smile touched her lips.
*The Ring opens doors indeed…*
***
Leaving the tailor shop behind, Kiara and Zion ventured deeper into the commercial district. The lively clamor of the market gradually faded, replaced by the steady rhythm of craftsmanship—hammers striking wood, saws rasping through timber, and the clean, resinous scent of fresh-cut lumber hanging in the air.
Workshop after workshop lined the street, showcasing everything from ornate wardrobes and sturdy barrels to finely crafted furniture destined for merchant homes and noble manors.
Nearly half an hour later, Kiara stopped in front of the largest one. A sturdy sign read Ironwood Furniture Workshop.
Inside, craftsmen moved in practiced harmony. A broad-shouldered man in his forties greeted them with an easy smile. His calloused hands and scarred knuckles made it clear he still worked alongside his crew rather than just giving orders.
"Welcome. What can I do for you?"
"I'd like to place a custom order."
"What kind? Metallic or wooden?"
"Wooden boxes. Just standard ones. Don't need to be super sturdy either. But need them in bulk."
The owner nodded. "Simple enough. How many?"
"Two hundred."
His smile faltered. "Two hundred?"
"One hundred of one size, one hundred of another."
After a brief pause, he gestured to a nearby worktable. "We'd better sit down for this."
Several craftsmen glanced over curiously. Orders this size didn't come every day.
Once they were seated, Kiara reached into her storage ring and set a dull black revolver on the table. The carpenter picked it up, turning it over with obvious interest.
"So… the boxes are for this?"
"Yes."
He examined it from every angle. "No blade, no bowstring… What exactly is it?"
"A product," Kiara replied simply.
Seeing she wasn't going to elaborate, he chuckled. "Fair enough."
He fetched a ruler and began taking careful measurements while Kiara described the interior compartments she wanted. "It needs to hold steady during transport. A section here for a cleaning cloth, and another for the ammunition—they're like marbles, but not quite round."
The carpenter nodded, jotting everything down.
After some quick calculations, he leaned back. "It's not a difficult job. I'd gladly take it." His expression turned apologetic. "But it'll be a few weeks before we can deliver. That alright?"
"A few weeks?" Kiara looked up. "They're just boxes."
"We're in the middle of furnishing an entire manor for House Blackthorn," he said, gesturing around the busy workshop. "That contract has every craftsman tied up for the next month."
Kiara's face remained calm, but disappointment flickered in her eyes. *Another noble.* A month was far too long.
As she considered trying elsewhere, her thumb brushed lightly across the copper ring. Warmth spread through the metal.
[Target locked.]
[Target possesses 3 Luck points.]
[Proceed with absorption?]
"Yes."
[Maximum absorbable amount: 2 Luck points.]
[Beginning transfer.]
[60 seconds remaining.]
The carpenter continued apologizing, but Kiara kept him engaged with practical questions—timber types, hinges, interior lining, manpower, delivery options. One question flowed naturally into the next, holding him at the table as the countdown continued.
Forty seconds.
Thirty.
Twenty.
[Transfer complete.]
[Successfully absorbed 2 Luck Points.]
The workshop door suddenly swung open. An apprentice rushed in, breathing hard.
"Master!"
The carpenter turned. "What is it?"
"The steward from House Blackthorn is here."
His face brightened. "Excellent. Tell him the first shipment will be ready next week."
The apprentice hesitated. "He already spoke with me."
"And?"
The young man swallowed. "The commission… has been canceled."
The workshop fell silent. Hammers paused mid-swing. A saw was quietly set down.
The carpenter stared at his apprentice. "Canceled?"
"The lord postponed the manor renovation. They don't need the furniture anymore. They've withdrawn the entire order." The apprentice lowered his head. "They paid the cancellation fee… but there won't be another one."
The carpenter closed his eyes and let out a heavy, weary breath. "What rotten luck."
At that exact moment, the warmth around Kiara's finger faded.
She stayed quiet. There was nothing to celebrate.
Only after the silence had settled did she speak. "My commission."
The carpenter looked around at his men, then gave a tired nod. "If you're still interested… we can start today."
Visible relief swept through the workshop. It wasn't the grand noble contract they'd lost, but work was still work.
Kiara inclined her head. "I am."
She unfolded a second sheet of paper. Unlike her earlier sketches, this one held only a single symbol: a stylized eye with a narrow vertical pupil.
The carpenter studied it with interest. "Your family crest?"
"No." Kiara shook her head. "My store's mark."
She slid the page toward him. "I want it engraved on every piece—the revolver cases, the ammunition crates, everything."
He carefully rolled the drawing up with his notes. "It'll be done." He smiled as he glanced at the symbol one last time. "Once these leave my workshop, people will know exactly who made them."
Kiara returned the smile. "That's exactly what I'm counting on."
As she and Zion stepped back onto the street, she glanced down at the copper ring.
"Okay, I had enough theories. Now, it's time for the final visit of the day. Let's go and visit those rival weapon stores this time..."